


you'd be north.

by redhoods



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21987556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhoods/pseuds/redhoods
Summary: “You want to walk?” Caleb asks incredulously even as he loops his hand through the crook of Fjord’s elbow.They only have to pause briefly outside the office door for Caleb to active his lock, then they carry on through the halls. Fjord tilts his head towards Caleb, “Are you afraid a little rain is going to melt you, Widogast?” He asks teasing, “I’ll even help you dry off and warm up when we’re there.”Caleb laughs and it echoes off the walls.
Relationships: Fjord/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 8
Kudos: 130





	you'd be north.

**Author's Note:**

> taty wanted slow dancing in the rain and i just upped the ante in that way i'm prone to doing. (also taty, i realized i don't know what your ao3 is... whoops.)
> 
> title from if my heart was a house by owl city.

“I hope it’s not fucking raining again,” Beau says as soon as they land in the circle in Rexxentrum.

Fjord snorts, rubbing at his jaw, willing his stomach to settle, “You know it’s going to be raining,” he replies as he follows her into the Cobalt Soul. It doesn’t matter how many times he uses teleportation circles, wizard powered or not, he’s never going to get used to the feeling.

She turns and points a finger accusingly at him, “Do not jinx me, man.”

It only takes a raised eyebrow for her to scoff at him, shifting on her feet and hiking her shoulders up, and then she’s off, stalking through the place. He almost feels bad for some of the staff.

Almost.

If he hadn’t been dealing with her in far closer proximity for far longer than any of them will have the (dis)pleasure of doing.

“See you later, Beau!” He calls to her retreating back, snorts when she flips him off over her shoulder without another word. No one pays him any mind as he cuts through the place, heading for the doors that’ll dump him out into the city.

It is raining.

Steady sheets of rain against the cobblestone, the sky dreary flat grey above his head.

He misses the coast already.

It’s outweighed though.

He pulls his hood over his head, not that it’ll do him a bit of good, and steps out into the rain.

\-----

By the time he makes it to the Academy, Fjord’s soaked through and cold, stands dripping just outside the doors that’ll take him into the school for a few minutes, simply trying to ring the rain out of his cloak and shake it out of his hair.

It does him as much good as putting the cloak on had in the first place and he wishes Pumat were around to help him out.

The right door opens easily for him, swings shut on its own as he strides across the marble floors. There’s not many people about now and the few that are only incline their heads in his direction as he goes. He takes the familiar path through the halls, up a flight of stairs until he finds himself at the door to one of the lecture halls.

From inside, he can hear talking, the rising and falling of voices, and the door opens quietly when he pulls. The room is almost entirely full of students in desks, a series of rises rounded like a semicircle on the dias at the front of the hall. 

No one notices him and he sinks into the first empty desk he comes to in the very top row. 

A student to his right looks over, then back to the dias, right back again with wide eyes.

He flips them a two fingered salute, presses a finger to his mouth, then turns his gaze to the dias as well.

It doesn’t matter though, word will spread through the whole lecture hall within minutes.

Leaning back in the desk, he rubs his thumb against his palm, up across his ring, back down again. It’d be dumb to assume that Caleb hasn’t noticed him yet, but he also knows how Caleb can get absorbed in his lectures like he presently seems to be, gesturing as explains magical theory, glyphs and runes lighting up around him as he shows his students examples.

All of them are raptly paying attention, scribbling furiously. At least, those that haven’t heard word yet, swinging their gaze briefly in his direction before back to the dias where Caleb is.

Caleb looks good, he always does, but its been months and Fjord has missed him something fierce, maybe it makes him seem all the more handsome. Or maybe it’s just seeing him in his element. A combination, probably.

Suddenly, Caleb stops, eyebrows drawing, “What is—” his gaze snaps, lands on Fjord with sharp clarity, “Oh.”

Fjord grins, flicks him a wave.

Several students around him snicker.

“Oh, alright,” Caleb says with an exaggerated long suffering sigh, hands dropping, “We’ll pick this back up in two weeks,” he announces and there’s a flurry of activity as students start packing up their things, “Enjoy your break!”

Fjord waits as students file out, only stragglers left when he takes the steps down to the dias where Caleb is speaking with a small cluster of them. They all turn their gazes to him, back to Caleb, who sighs heavily, “Yes, yes, he is very handsome, please stop, he knows it,” and several of them giggle, calling their goodbyes as they retreat up the stairs to the doors leading out into the rest of the school.

“Very handsome, huh?” Fjord asks, reaching out to hook his fingers around Caleb’s arm, drawing him around.

And Caleb comes to him easily, curling against his chest, tucking against his shoulder, “Hush you,” he says, “I could’ve had their attention for at least fifteen more minutes.”

Fjord hums, kisses the top of his head, “Well, now you’ve got mine for two weeks.”

Caleb edges back, nose wrinkled, “You’re wet, have you dripped rain water through my entire school?” He asks, but his cheeks are pink and he’s smiling as he takes Fjord’s hand and tugs him off the dias, through the door that leads into his office.

“I may have,” he replies, watching Caleb gather his things, set his office to rights, “it’s not my fault it’s always raining in this city when I get here.”

There’s something impressive in watching the gentle flicks of Caleb’s wrist as he returns books to their places in his office without a thought, quills and ink and paper righting themselves, shades on the windows drawing closed. It’s simple magic, but the way Caleb wields it like an extension of himself will never not leave Fjord in awe.

He steps in to help Caleb into his cloak, to loop his scarf around his neck, feels no qualms about using the knitted lengths to pull him in and smudge a kiss to his mouth, “Hello, love.”

Caleb hums at him, eyes crinkling, “Hallo, barchen.”

“Ready to go home?” He asks and offers his arm.

“You want to walk?” Caleb asks incredulously even as he loops his hand through the crook of Fjord’s elbow.

They only have to pause briefly outside the office door for Caleb to active his lock, then they carry on through the halls. Fjord tilts his head towards Caleb, “Are you afraid a little rain is going to melt you, Widogast?” He asks teasing, “I’ll even help you dry off and warm up when we’re there.”

Caleb laughs and it echoes off the walls.

\-----

The rain doesn’t let up in the slightest on their walk and when they finally step onto their property, Fjord’s regretting not letting Caleb just pop them into the house. Or he would be, if Caleb didn’t stop in the front lawn to tilt his head back, arms spread wide, letting the rain rush over him.

He finds himself stopping, simply watching Caleb, taking in the lines of his face, the gentle curve up of his lips, the crooked slant of his nose. The water has made his hair dark and it hangs loose down his back, will probably be a bitch to comb out later but Fjord finds himself already anticipating it, “You trying to catch a cold?”

Caleb’s head tips down and he’s still smiling as water slides down the bridge of his nose, “I won’t,” he says and holds his hand out, palm up in Fjord’s direction.

“I’m making Jester your nurse if you do,” he threatens with absolutely no intention of following through as he slides his hand into Caleb’s, surprised when Caleb tugs, sending him stumbling until they bump chests.

His boots are already soaked through and standing in the wet grass of the yard isn’t helping, but he doesn’t care cause Caleb is still smiling.

“I missed you,” Caleb says, moving Fjord’s hand up until their hands are clasped in the air and he realizes what Caleb’s attempting belatedly, slides his arm around Caleb’s back without complaint as Caleb nudges him.

And then they’re dancing.

Fjord tips their foreheads together, trusting Caleb to not run him into any trees or bushes, “So, Professor Widogast,” he says, touching a kiss to the end of Caleb’s nose when he scrunches it, “What are your plans for the next two weeks you have off?”

“Well, you see,” he starts, eyes crinkling at the corners, “my husband just returned home after months away and I’ve been looking forward to spending those two weeks with him.”

Fondness wells in him and Fjord laughs, squeezing Caleb’s hand in his, “Sounds like a lucky man.”

Caleb’s expression goes soft, “I can assure you, Captain Widogast, I am the lucky one,” and Fjord is going to kiss him, he can’t not, but Caleb slips in the wet grass and it’s really only sheer luck that Fjord manages to catch him to keep them both from going down in a tangle of limbs.

To the outside, he wonders if it’d look like he was purposefully dipping Caleb.

“I got you,” he says to Caleb’s wide eyed expression, drawing him back up right.

Caleb hums, hands moving to cup Fjord’s face, “You always do, liebling,” he says, draws Fjord into a quick kiss, before he’s pulling away, “I don’t know about you, but the idea of a warm bath right now sounds very nice.”

Fjord trails behind him to their front door, “I’ve missed our bath tub.”

“More or less than our bed?”

Laughing, he tucks against Caleb’s back as he traces the sigil to unlock the door, nuzzles against his neck, “Much much less than the bed,” he says to the damp skin there.

“Correct answer,” Caleb murmurs and the door swings open, warmth rushing out to meet them, and Fjord is the one to propel them through, using his boot to kick the door shut behind them, even as Caleb says, “You’re going to leave a muddy print, don’t even.”

Fjord turns him to kiss him, slow and searching as they drip water on the floor of the entrance way.

Caleb is the one to pull back, slow and eyes heavy lidded, “We can clean later,” he says decisive, fingers wrapping around Fjord’s wrist and tugging him towards the stairs.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm @vowofenmity on twitter.


End file.
